A Prayer for the Wild
by Liave Ekeli
Summary: A letter is found. A letter written by a man surrounded in mystery and deceit. What is it that is so importan for this man to say to the world around him, and why has he chosen this time to say it.


**Disclaimer: **All the characters in the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infingement is intended, and this fic is written only for my own entertainment.  
**Author's Notes: **This is a fic I wrote after reading _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Enjoy!

_To whom it may concern.  
How do you handle the truth? How do you handle a deep, harsh, unavoidable truth that is certain to turn your world upside down and later rip it to shreds? How do you handle that?  
The truth is, you don't. I don't. The unavoidable truth that is now crushing my life to pieces scares me. No, more than that, it terrifies me. The only reason why I'm not locked up in a mental institution instead of sitting here right now, is that it would be just as dangerous, or perhaps even more so, than to be where I am. It's easier to get away with murder in a mental institution… People kill themselves in such institutions. To get away with a murder would be almost too easy. I'm not going down that quietly.  
I can't give away my hiding place to anyone, or I wont, even when I know that if you, or someone is reading this letter, I am probably dead._

_I won't tell you my name. Not because I am afraid of my hunters. They already know my name, and my face, and sooner or later they will find me. I am only hoping it will be later. The reason why I'm not willing to give up my name to you is because I don't want you to know that the crimes I will tell you about were committed by me.  
You will probably not know my name, the world will have forgotten about me. And just as well… I have done nothing worth remembering.  
This is my only truth.  
The screams and pleas of people I've killed, the look in the eyes of the women I've violated, the motion of a tortured body just before it is freed by silent death.  
This is my only truth._

_If you have not yet understood, I am a Death Eater. Death's own black mark is burned in my flesh forever, nothing I can ever say will change that.  
My hope in writing this letter is not to seek the forgiveness of a stranger. Hope to a Death Eater is as fruitless as a rainstorm in a desert. I will never be granted forgiveness by any mortal being. If I had believed in a higher-ranking force than humans I could have hoped for forgiveness after death, but I don't believe in such a force.  
To lost souls like me, no God exists. No forgiveness is granted, even though it is sometimes asked. Our sins are forever._

_My hope is for someone to see me, and how misplaced I really was among the rest of them. My hope for you who is reading this is for you to understand, to see that not every crime I committed was committed with pleasure or joy. Some, most of them in fact, was committed out of fear for my own life. It was either them or me, and every single time I made sure it was them. But no longer._

_I remember my initiation; the first time I ever felt the mark burn. At that moment I thought that nothing could ever cause me more pain than what I felt when the Dark Lord called upon us, but time, in her fashion, would prove me very wrong. The only pain the mark inflicts on me now are the memories of the crimes I've committed. They burn my mind like a fire that will not burn out until I draw my last breath. And all of it I did in his service, because it was his will._

_I was once a man. Not a great man, or a man worth following or ask for advice, but still a man. Now, it sometimes feel as if I am no longer human.  
The man, however little he was, that I had once been disappeared forever the day I joined them. From that day on, I was no more than His servant. Before I had the value that all people have, but from the second He first called upon me to do His bidding I was worth nothing, unless he said so. And He never did. I was never again to be worth anything._

_The only true sacrifice I have ever made was that, in becoming His servant I lost all value. If there is one thing that keeps me awake at night more than anything it is that.  
My value has gone from priceless to nothing. Still now, when the people who were before my fellow servants will be my murderers, still now I am but His servant. Still I am worthless…_

_Like I said, I remember my initiation, as clear as it only happened yesterday. My first assignment was a family of four. Two parents and two children. I remember that we were two, I don't remember who he was, but I remembered that we drew for who was to kill whom. I also remember that I was glad that he got the children and I got the adults. It was bad enough to have to kill them…_

_I passed my initiation, and was taken up amongst his followers. At that time my parents saluted me for my stand, and I am sure that they still would if they weren't dead. They thought me worthy of being pureblood, as opposed to my brother whom they saw as being a shame to the whole family. They never knew what my initiation had been, and If they had known I'm not sure they would have cared, as long as the family I murdered was not pureblood._

_I must admit that I too, for a time, saw my brother as inferior to me. But as time passed, and the service of the Dark Lord became more and more unbearable, I found him far more worthy of being a Black than I ever was. He was proud, stubborn even, where I was weak. He had his faults, like any man has, but he was strong and independent with an almost otherworldly sense for what was right. He was my brother, thought I can never remember one time when it actually felt that way. We were both children of the same parents, but still children of different worlds._

_I sit here now, looking back on my life, remembering every cruel act I ever committed. It is not few. My only hope of something close to salvation is something I discovered recently. I discovered the secret of my Master, and with that the means with which to destroy him. For once I did what no servant of the Dark Lord ever does… I followed my heart, and what little dignity there is left in it._

_I will die, but my last action will allow me to die with a small piece of the grace of one who made the right decision when faced with his or her choice. I hope I will have been of help to the one who one day also will discover the secret of my master, and I hope that I will contribute to his downfall, even if it proves to be from beyond my grave._

_I know that it might seem strange, but as I sit here writing I feel a sense of pride. Not over what I have done, but for what I feel. A feeling I have not felt for many years, If ever… The feeling that one final spark of human dignity can create within one who has never know the feeling of true dignity before, not until his life is almost at it's end._

_So, to who ever are reading this: Thank you for listening to the last words of a sinner and a fugitive. Let my actions be of some guidance for you not to make my mistakes. Our hearts are not created evil; we ourselves, and the people who surrounds us make them that way._

_R.A.B_


End file.
